Original text and translations

English text

Al as a Sea, the world no other is,
our selves are ships still tossed to & fro,
and loe, each man, his love to that or this,
is like a storme, that drives the ship to goe,
that thus our life in doubt of shipwrack stands,
our wils the rocks, our want of skill the sands.

Our passions be Pirates still that spoyle,
and overboard cast’s out our reasons fraight:
the Marriners that day and night doe toyle,
bee our conceits that doe on pleasure waight:
pleasure Master doth tirannize the Ship,
and giveth Vertue secretly the nip.

The compasse is a minde to compasse all,
both pleasure, profit, place and fame, for naught:
the windes that blow men overweening call,
the Merchandise is wit full deerely bought:
tryal the Anker cast upon experience,
for labor, lyfe and all a doe the recompence.